


Hero Worship: A Winchester Five Things

by Medie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, five things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-27
Updated: 2010-03-27
Packaged: 2017-10-08 09:12:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/75069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medie/pseuds/Medie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam's big brother is his hero, Dean's little brother is his.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hero Worship: A Winchester Five Things

**Author's Note:**

> written for [](http://vespertanmer.livejournal.com/profile)[**vespertanmer**](http://vespertanmer.livejournal.com/) for my Birthday Drabble-A-Thon. Yes, terribly late but OMG last few months have been awful! *G*

1.

The window shatters in a hail of glass; both boys freeze.

"Uh oh," Dean says after a moment, turning to face the rundown Victorian.

The broken window gapes like an open wound and Sammy gulps, afraid. When Dad gets back, he is so dead.

Old man Carlton's face appears in the hole, anger twisting his features. He shouts something that neither boy can make it out, but it doesn't matter.

They both know he's pissed.

Sammy looks at his brother, knows what's coming. Dean looks at the old man and then at Sammy. "Stay here," he says, taking the glove from his brother. "It'll be okay."

Watching his brother cross the street, Sammy breathes out and believes.

2.

"Hey Sammy, how're you feeling?"

Dad's voice, gruff with concern, wakes him and Sammy opens one eye. His throat's scratchy, tight, and his head hurts. He looks blearily at his father. "Awful."

His Dad winces. "You're staying in bed kiddo," he says. "Dean's going to stay with you."

"You've gotta go?" Sammy rubs an eye.

"Yeah," Dad sighs. "Another body's turned up." He rests a hand on Sammy's forehead. "Your fever's broken, but no raising hell, okay?"

It hurts to laugh so Sammy just nods and pulls the blanket tighter. "Where's Dean?"

"Gone for comics and orange juice," Dad grins. "We're out of the OJ, he was muttering about your books when he left."

Sammy slides a glance at Oliver Twist. "What's wrong with my books?"

Dad snickers. "Not a thing."

Dean blusters through the door. The orange juice and comics have multiplied into two bulging grocery sacks.

He lets the sacks slide onto the coffee table with a thunk and grins broadly at Sammy. "I got popsicles!"

Sammy smiles.

3.

Sam doesn't fit anymore, his legs and arms too long for his body. He stumbles over himself and trips, sprawling into the mud. The gun slips out of his hands, bouncing and landing just out of reach.

He mutters an oath, looks over his shoulder, but doesn't see his brother or his Dad. The woods behind him appear empty and he knows better, but the creature's keeping a low profile.

Looking at the gun, Sam debates his chances of getting to it. He shifts his legs, the mud slicking up his jeans, and can't get them under him. He hears a whisper of movement, wet leaves sliding against each other, and tenses.

The creature, all fur and rancid breath, explodes out of the trees and Sam throws himself forward. The mud displaces his momentum and he slams flat, his wet fingers slipping on the gun.

Sam yells in frustration and hears the echoing bark of a gun. He looks up at Dean standing over him.

"Hate the rain," Dean says. "Messes up everything." He looks at Sam and groans. "Dude, the laundry bill's going to be a bitch."

Sam smirks. "Your turn man."

4.

The ropes cut into Sam's wrists, but he ignores the bite of pain. He keeps one eye on the door and the other on the clock while he works on getting loose.

"Hurry," the girl behind him pleads. There's an edge of desperation in her voice, she's bordering on hysteria. "_Please_, you've got to get us out of here."

"I'm working on it, just hang on," Sam assures. "My brother'll be here soon."

"We're going to be bleeding all over the floor soon," she snaps.

Sam grins. Anger's better than panic so he doesn't answer. He can't blame her, she's terrified, but she doesn't know Dean.

He's worked one hand free when the door opens and Dean sticks his head in. "Anybody call for a dashing, debonair hero?"

"Nope," Sam's grin is broad and just a little silly. "I wanted Sarah Michelle Gellar," he sighs. "But you'll have to do."

"I could leave you," Dean points out.

Sam shrugs, "Yeah, but you won't."

Dean grins and cuts them free. "Shut up and come on."

5.

Dean won't let Sam go to the bus alone. "You know I've gotta ask," he says, leaning against the faded terminal wall.

"And you know my answer," Sam mutters. "I can't stay here, Dean, I can't stay with _him_." He shrugs. "I don't know how you can."

"Managed this far," Dean says. "I'll manage the rest of the way." He blinks away the memory of flames, pretends he doesn't feel the heat on his hands. "You've got my number." Not that Sam'll use it.

"I'm going to be fine," Sam looks at him and Dean looks away.

"Yeah," he says. "You will." He believes it.

The bus pulls in and Dean hands over Sam's bag. "Stuck some munchies in the side pocket," he says.

Sam rolls his eyes. "Thanks."

Dean swallows. "Anytime."

With a wave, Sam heads out of the terminal and onto the bus. Dean grits his teeth and doesn't go after him. Everything in him is screaming to, but he shuts it down and just watches.

"See ya Sammy," he says.

He isn't envious, he isn't. Except, maybe, he almost is. He doesn't want any other life, not really, but sometimes - Sometimes he wonders.


End file.
